"Unilateral disarmament is not an answer, it is a pathway to oblivion!"

The speaker was passionately decrying a familiar discussion on the possibility of nuclear disarmament on the part of the United States. It was a pipe dream by his estimation, a sure way to the demise of the US as a world power.

Napoleon Solo and Illya Kuryakin were in the audience, placed discreetly near the front for protection, should someone object to the oration of Senator William Kinser.

"He makes a point you know. The Soviet Union would latch onto something like unilateral disarmament and immediately increase its own military strength around the globe." Illya knew first hand how his countrymen would respond. He wasn't necessarily impressed with the Senator's views overall, but on this one point he found agreement with his own opinions.

Napoleon sighed in resignation. He knew it was true, but the dream of a world unencumbered by militarism and nuclear threat was one he shared with countless others. His stint in Korea had shown him the worst of war, and the current situation in Vietnam was leading to an increasing awareness of the military industrial complex that Eisenhower had warned would overtake the country if left unchecked.

The audience was generally in agreement with Senator Kinser, but scattered throughout were dissidents whose credentials included campus bombings and attacks on military recruitment centers. The motives were unclear, but in any case, UNCLE had been asked to help rein in the individuals should their intentions appear to be violent in nature.

"Look, over there.' Illya was pointing to a young man in a hooded sweatshirt, not a common sight among the crowd in this auditorium. He had on glasses that appeared to be for distance vision, but it was impossible to know for sure from where the two agents were seated.

"I'll go check it out. Something about his demeanor seems a little off." Illya rose from his seat and walked up the aisle to the door at the top, cut through the foyer and around so that he could move in close to the individual in question. Once he was within a few feet of the man Illya saw that he was holding a package; he seemed nervous and kept moving his fingers while avoiding touching whatever was in the brown bag on his lap.

Illya's communicator was open inside his jacket breast pocket, allowing him to speak to Napoleon.

"He has something, it looks a little suspicious. I don't think we should give him an opportunity to do whatever might be his objective here."

Kinser was still talking, but the intensity had lessened. Napoleon took the opportunity to head around to the backstage area, something that was possible with the auditorium's design; steps on either side allowed for access without disrupting the speaker or performance onstage.

Once behind the curtain, Napoleon asked Illya if the suspect was still fiddling with the bag.

"He seems to be waiting for something, perhaps a signal. I think this is our man, Napoleon. What are you going to do?"

Illya didn't have to wait for a reply. Napoleon came from behind the curtain like an emcee might, clasping the senator's hand and thanking him for the excellent talk on such an important subject. The senator looks slightly annoyed at first, but being aware of UNCLE's presence, as well as Secret Service, he yielded to the agent's ruse and thanked his audience before being led offstage by Solo.

Illya watched his man the entire time, noted the look of exasperation as the senator left the stage and then the hesitation before getting up to leave. As if it were not in the plan but a split second decision, he set the bag on the seat as he turned to go.

Illya had to make a choice between grabbing the package and running like a mad man through the crowd, or yelling FIRE at the top of his lungs and hoping the room cleared before a bomb went off. He opted to grab the bag, it would probably be the best and fasted way to make certain the crowd was safe.

Illya swiftly took possession of the bag and then turned back towards a street level exit that should lead to an alley. He hoped there would be large trash receptacles there, the industrial type that could be attached to the city garbage trucks. If something exploded inside one of those the damage should be minimal.

With the speed of man running for his life, Illya bounded out of the auditorium and spotted the big trash bin he had hoped would be there. As quickly as he could, he was throwing the bomb inside and running away from it when the thing went off. It was more of a thud than an explosion, emitting a cloud of something that smelled of putrid excrement of some sort.

"Chyort!" Illya swore at the thing, realizing that he had been caught in the cloud of stink as it swirled around the alley. It was better than being blown up, but something told him his partner would never let him live it down.

A stink bomb. Again.

Remember the Super Colossal Affair?